The Devil Take My Bones
by Alsemero
Summary: "And something inexpressible snaps inside Logan, he can almost feel it leaving his body, like a spirit, an exorcism in reverse. Because the devil takes over." Darkfic. Logan/Cassidy, Logan/Veronica.


Disclaimer: I own nothing. Non, rien de rien. No, je ne ownais rien. _(ownais is totally the French for own, right?)_

Warnings: Abusive relationship, dub-con, sex, violence, frequent bad language, angst. This fic is quite dark, be warned.

Takes place sometime in season three. Spoilers for first two seasons.

I was encouraged to write another VM fic when some kind people gave me such lovely reviews on the last one I did. The next part of this fic will be more of season three Logan, in a relationship with Veronica, reflecting on Cassidy, but this first part is mainly pre-season one, just after Lilly's death.

.VM.

He tells himself he doesn't know exactly when it started, but that's a lie. A lot of things have faded, but this he remembers. It's true that after Lilly's death, everything got hazy - he started cutting out in the middle of conversations, faces swam out of focus, he'd lose track of time, of space. That wasn't so bad, he wasn't really there and nothing hurt.

But then everything came flooding back and the anger kicked in.

All the time, at anyone; at his father, oh-so-considerately holding back on the slaps and the cigarette burns out of respect for the mourning period. At Duncan for hitting auto-pilot, popping the pills that left him so comfortably numb, cheating his way to tranquillity. At Veronica, for choosing her father over all of them, for betraying him to Lilly in the first place, for still daring to be here when her better half was gone. At Lilly, for leaving him behind.

Then one night he throws a party at his house while his parents are in Palm Springs. In his head he nicknames it the 'See What You're Missing, Lilly?' party, because fuck her for being dead when there's kegs to be drunk and five thousand dollar vases to smash. And then he's in his bedroom, tequila bottle almost empty now, and Cassidy comes in and says the wrong thing.

As in, "Do you miss Lilly?"

Before Logan knows what's happening he has Cassidy up against the wall, hands pressing his lean body into the hard smooth surface, face up close to his. "Don't you fucking say her name. Don't you fucking..."

Cassidy isn't resisting, isn't making a sound, there's something indefinable in his eyes, and even in his drunken state Logan knows that something isn't right. He lets go, not sober enough to be guilty, but ready to leave it alone, return to his bottle.

Then, unbelievably, _un-fucking-believably, _a smirk ghosts across Cassidy's lips and he says "I'll take that as a yes, then."

Logan punches him in the face. Cassidy's down in an instant, blood trickling from his lip. Logan's swaying, pulse pounding in his ears, but there's still a part of him that wants to walk away because it's Dick's kid brother and he doesn't really want to hurt him, does he? But then, Cassidy, _he laughs _and he says, starting to stand, "She was a slut, you know."

Logan doesn't let him get up. He hits him once, twice, straddles him and pins his arms. They stay like that for a long minute, breathing hard.

Then Cassidy says, very softly, "You liked her because she was like you. Only good for one thing."

"Yeah? And what's that?"

If Cassidy recognises the warning signs in Logan's voice, he doesn't heed them.

"For fucking."

His mouth forms the words triumphantly. And something inexpressible snaps inside Logan, he can almost feel it leaving his body, like a spirit, an exorcism in reverse. Because the devil takes over. Logan lets a grin cross his face, far too wide, like a deformed circus clown.

"You're right, Beav," he says, and then he leans down to whisper directly into Cassidy's ear. "You want me to show you?"

Panic flits into Cassidy's eyes. And Logan's so far gone it only thrills him.

He toys with the top button on the younger boy's shirt, traces one finger across his cheek. Cassidy laughs nervously. "I didn't mean-"

"No, you started this." Logan's voice is sharp. "This is what you wanted."

Cassidy physically flinches. Logan pauses, enjoying it.

"I really am good, you know. Aren't you tired of being a virgin, Beav?"

"Get off me."

"Make me," Logan challenges, and suddenly Cassidy starts struggling, bucking his hips, trying to wriggle his arms free of Logan's grip.

Logan holds him easily - the kid weighs nothing, and Logan's had his ass kicked by Aaron enough times to know a few tricks. Cassidy gives up after a while, panting, naked fear written across his face.

"I'll scream," he says breathlessly, his eyes darting behind Logan to the slightly ajar door.

"It's a party, Beav, who's gonna hear you?" Logan says, mock exasperated, like this is just some mild disagreement.

Then Cassidy does scream, loud and raw, his eyes locked on the boy astride him.

Logan gives him five seconds before he shifts his body; so his knees are pinning Cassidy's arms, then with one free hand, clamps down over his mouth, while the other casually reaches out to slam the door shut.

Cassidy bites his hand. Logan slaps him across the face.

Then all of a sudden he's done, weary of this game, disgusted at himself. What the fuck is he doing? Lilly's laughing face rises before his eyes for a second, and he wants to be sick. _Jesus. _It's all wrong, everything's been wrong since then. He's all wrong.

He gets up, turns his back on the slim form lying on his carpet, and slumps down on the bed, face to the ceiling.

"Fuck off, Beav," he slurs. He stretches out, suddenly sleep seems the best thing, let it all drift away for a few hours...

Then something bears down on top of him and suddenly Cassidy's on his mouth, a bruising, desperate kiss, biting on his lip.

"Beav, what the fuck-" he starts to say.

"Shut up," Cassidy hisses and he's already torn open Logan's shirt and got to work on his belt buckle by the time Logan engages his brain enough to grab the boy's hand.

"What are you doing?"

"You said you were good. Fucking prove it." Cassidy's face is wicked in the half-light cast by the bedside lamp, and Logan feels a chill in spite of himself. He's still processing the words but before he can say something, or push Cassidy off him, the kid's managed to work off his belt, then his jeans and boxers and he's licking his chest, down to... oh God...

The voice of reason in Logan's head, so weak and quiet since he heard the news about how Lilly's brains were now decorating the poolside, is overwhelmed. He can still hear it, doesn't even try to ignore it, but he makes a decision. He doesn't care.

Then he flips Cassidy over and fucks him – because Veronica's a bitch, because Duncan's a zombie, because his dad's a bastard, and because Lilly's a corpse.

.VM.

Reviews will be met with great avalanches of spontaneous love. Even the bad ones.


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